


Drive Me Crazy

by enigmaticblue



Series: Birthday 'Verse [1]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-01
Updated: 2010-09-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 09:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/111055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cordelia can't do anything to help Angel, but she can't do nothing either. (An AU version of the S3 episode "Birthday," wherein Cordelia stays in the alternate universe where she's a successful actress, and Angel stays crazy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive Me Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the hc_bingo prompt "driven to insanity". This is a story that's been percolating in the back of my head for a while now, and who knows? Maybe there will be more of it in the future.

Cordelia knocks on Wesley’s door, shifting the bag of supplies to her other arm. She gives silent thanks that she hasn’t lined up any projects for the summer break. Her agent isn’t happy with that decision, but Cordy’s grateful for the reprieve, even if she hadn’t a clue what she was going to do with the time off.

 

Well, she has something to do now.

 

She has no idea why she’s visiting Angel and Wes; she isn’t cut out for killing demons, and she can’t make Angel less crazy or give Wesley his arm back. Still, she has to do _something_.

 

The door opens and Wesley’s eyes widen when he recognizes her. “Cordelia. I didn’t think we’d be seeing you again.”

 

“I have a break in filming, and I thought I’d—” She forces a smile. “I brought supplies.”

 

Wesley waves her in. “Please. Come in.”

 

“Where’s Gunn?”

 

“With his old gang,” Wesley replies. “He checks in with them from time to time, and Angel’s been having a good day.”

 

She swallows hard. “Good. I was hoping to see him, too.”

 

Wesley nods. “Of course.”

 

“I brought takeout for us, too,” Cordelia continues; she is determined not to let her dismay show. She has come to see Angel and Wesley, even though being in their company made her feel more helpless than she ever had—even in Sunnydale. She can’t help, and she can’t stay away. It’s a terrible feeling, and she knows that she has probably overcompensated. “I wasn’t sure if Gunn would be here, so there’s a lot of food.”

 

She can see Wesley’s eyes light up when he reads the name on the cartons. “Cordelia, this is…too much.”

 

“Nonsense,” Cordelia replies briskly. “I’ll just let you get this set up, and I’ll go see Angel.”

 

Wesley hesitates. “Of course. Just—be careful.”

 

“Angel won’t hurt me,” she says, projecting a confidence she doesn’t quite feel. Cordelia takes the containers of blood out of the bag, stuck one in the fridge, and kept one to take in with her.

 

Her hand trembles as she unlocks the door, and she is grateful that Wesley is too busy with the food to notice. Angel huddles in a corner, looking much like the last time she’d seen him. He rocks back and forth on his heels, muttering under his breath. Cordy has braced herself to see him again, but it still doesn’t prepare her for the reality—for the stale air, for Angel’s incoherency, for her own heartbreak.

 

“Hey, Angel,” Cordelia murmurs. “It’s me—Cordy. I brought something for you.”

 

Angel doesn’t so much as glance up. “I tried. I tried to save her. Why couldn’t I? Failed, I failed. I can’t see. I can’t see.”

 

“It’s okay,” Cordelia assures him. “I’m right here, Angel. I’m not going anywhere.” She holds out the container of blood. “You need to eat, or drink, or whatever. You know.”

 

Angel just rocks, muttering nonsense that she can’t begin to parse. Leaning in closer, ignoring Wesley’s advice, Cordy cupped his cheek with a gentle hand. “Angel, you have to eat. You have to keep up your strength.”

 

He freezes then meets her eyes for the first time. “Cordelia?”

 

Cordy smiles tremulously. “That’s right. It’s Cordy. Are you hungry?”

 

Angel seizes the tub of blood and begins to slurp loudly.

 

Cordy winces at the sounds he makes; her stomach turns, but she bites her tongue. Angel is eating, and that’s the important thing. She waits until Angel has finished, and then she takes the empty tub as she smoothes his hair. Angel responds by lying down and curling up on his side, his eyes closing as he goes to sleep. Cordelia stays for a moment longer, still running her fingers through his hair.

 

She wonders if she should clean Angel up. It appears as though he hasn’t bathed in awhile, and maybe it would make him feel better, less crazy. She runs a thumb down the line of his jaw and sighs. She wonders if she can do him any good at all.

 

Wesley is already eating when she leaves Angel to his sleep, the empty tub in hand. Cordy hadn’t known what Wesley or Gunn might like, so while she hadn’t gotten one of everything, she’d come close.

 

“This is amazing,” Wesley says as she enters the kitchen. “Thank you.” He pauses. “How is he?”

 

“He’s sleeping,” Cordy replies. She notes that Wesley hasn’t taken anything from the entrees that require a knife and fork, but she says nothing. She doesn’t think he would appreciate any offers of help. Maybe, eventually, he would allow her to do more for him, but bringing a meal will have to do for now.

 

Cordelia doesn’t feel as though it’s enough.

 

Wesley appears impressed. “Sleeping? Angel rarely manages to sleep. Not for any length of time.”

 

“No promises on length of time, but he seems pretty content right now.”

 

Wesley finishes swallowing the huge bite he’s just taken. “Please, sit. I feel bad eating all of this by myself.”

 

“There should be leftovers,” Cordelia says, mock censure in her voice.

 

Wesley smiles. “You would think, but I haven’t eaten this well in a long time.”

 

Cordelia’s stomach is still queasy from watching Angel eat, and from seeing his general condition, but she puts a little pasta with shrimp on a plate and begins to eat anyway. “I’m happy to help. Really.”

 

Wesley stabs an artichoke heart. “I don’t get out much,” he admits in a low voice. “There’s Angel, and… Well. This is a real treat.”

 

Cordy glances at the empty sleeve, remembering a time when Wesley’s left arm had filled it.

 

Wesley catches the look and he grimaces. “It’s not so bad.”

 

She thinks about all of the parties she attends, the red carpet events and premiers, the private shindigs. She thinks about Sunnydale, and how Wesley had flattered her with his attention. She thinks of Angel in his barren room, and his insanity, and Wesley’s loyalty.

 

“I want to do more,” Cordy blurts out, unable to keep the words in.

 

Wesley glances up from his meal, and his eyes are kind. He’s a familiar face, someone who knew her before she was _Cordy_, before she made it big. Wesley knows who she used to be, and he still seems to care about her.

 

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says gently.

 

Cordelia shakes her head. She can’t help but feel as though there was _something_ she could have done, some action she could have taken, that would have prevented all of this. She wishes she knew how to make it better.

 

“That’s not the point,” she finally manages. “You’re my friends, and friends help each other.”

 

Wesley gestures to the plate in front of him. “This is more than enough.”

 

“But I want to do more,” she insists. “Just tell me what I can do.”

 

Wesley’s eyes search her face, and he finally nods. “But maybe we can talk after dinner? This is the best meal I’ve had in weeks, and I’d rather not spoil it with talk of business.”

 

The tension in her eases, and Cordy nods. “Of course.” She smiles at him. “Just so you know, this is the best company I’ve had in a while.”

 

The tips of Wesley’s ears turn pink. “I doubt that.”

 

“It’s true,” she insists, and then launches in on a tale of her last date—a complete disaster—to prove it.

 

When Wesley laughs for the first time since she’s seen him again, Cordelia counts it as a victory.


End file.
